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SirPhilip Sidney : Astrophil and Stella (21)

Your words my friend (right healthful caustics1)
		blame
	My young mind marr’d, whom Love doth windlass
		 so,
	That mine own writings like bad servants show
My wits, quick in vain thoughts, in virtue lame:
That Plato I read for nought, but if he tame
	Such coltish gyres3, that to my birth I owe
	Nobler desires, least else that friendly foe,
Great expectation, wear a train of shame.
	For since mad March great promise made of me,
If now the May of my years much decline,
What can be hoped my harvest time will be?
Sure you say well, your wisdom's golden mine
	Dig deep with learning's spade, now tell me this,
	Hath this world aught so fair as Stella is?

SirPhilip Sidney (1554-1586)	P.1591

 
FOOTNOTES
1 i.e. medecines; 2 ensnare; 3 whirlings ;
 

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